Meet Me In Your Dreams
by TheWillOfMythal
Summary: Vauseman Soulmate AU. Where the recurring dreams people have are about their soulmate, and when Piper's finally start, it doesn't take long for them to turn very intimate.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone!

So, recently I have noticed certain posts and stuff on other fandoms, and found out that there is this thing about "Soulmates AU". It has definitely made me curious, although I couldn't exactly wrap my mind around the ideas that depicted characters that had the name of their soulmate or the first line spoken to each other tattoed somewhere on their body. It just seemed too "physical" considering that the whole soulmate concept is, in fact, basically spiritual... So I came up with this idea about dreams because, well, when we are dreaming we are kind of floating in between two worlds.

I honestly have no idea if this concept I had has already been explored before or even if something similar has been done about Vauseman. The few brief posts I have read described soulmates with markings or where the characters heard the other sing in their head.

So when I had this idea a few days ago, I decided to give it a go even if I am still not very convinced about it given that for me is a completely new territory.

I was thinking about a two-shot, but first I would really like to know what you think about this introductive chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Orange Is The New Black

I apologize for eventual grammar errors, english is not my first language.

I also apologize for the lack of dialogues in this first chapter.

Now I'll leave you to this attempt of mine :)

Enjoy

* * *

There isn't a specific age, a determined period of life, or the reaching of a certain maturity that triggers the dreams everyone longs to have when slumber claims them at night.

The beginning of the dreams that link you directly to the one person you are meant to be with, starts completely casually, adding that dose of mystical and magic into a phenomenon that no one seems yet able to explain or fully understand.

A phenomenon that is equally spiritual and cosmic.

Bound to the Universe itself, and to that unique rich force that makes the stars burning bright in the sky.

You have always been fascinated by the mystery wrapped around all of it.

You still remember when your dad used to tell you stories when you were little and you listened completely mesmerized, in pure awe, at the tales of lovers meeting each other in their dreams, breaking through the thin veil of the living reality and leading to a realm which rules the waking world could not fathom.

"When will I start dreaming about them?" You remember asking excitedly over and over again whenever the tale was over and your dad was tucking you into bed.

He always chuckled, kissing your forehead and whispering to you the same answer every time. "When it is time for you to meet them, sweetheart."

Little did you know then that it would take a very lot of patience and that when the dreams would have started you wouldn't have realized it right away. But you always went to bed with an excited smile, hopeful that one night, you would have started dreaming of the person with whom, according to the universe, you were meant to be, the one who held the other half of you as you held the matching other half of them.

Eventually, the romantic bright pink magic of it all slides away a little at the time with the greyer colors of life, like it always does as years pass and you grow up.

The childhood fairy tales about soulmates become stories that you see and hear happening everyday around you, and the reality of it takes another turn that is less magic and more... ordinary.

You don't know if it gives you comfort knowing that sooner or later you'll find that person meant for you, or if the lack of that spark that you have always found so enchanting when you were little makes the whole soulmate thing appear less glowing in your eyes now.

You don't dwell much on it, but the thought is always there poking at the edge of your mind.

. . .

During your first year in high school, a couple of your classmates find their soulmate within the institution. It's pretty common actually, considering all the new acquaintances, but it's certainly not a rule. It is proven by the fact that your dreams, as well as those of many, many others haven't started yet.

You remember the words your father used to tell you as a reassurance when you were just a little girl. _"Whenever it is time for you to meet them, Piper"_ echoes in your head like a mantra when you get invited to the soulmate celebrating event of some friend, and a wistful smile twitches on your lips at the sight of the happy couple gazing loving at each other.

During such occasions, it is inevitable to end up thinking about your own dreams and about the lack of substantial content in them for any kind of clue.

And as you find a nice quiet corner away from all the music dancing and chatting of the celebration, you gaze down at the cider punch in your cup as if the amber liquid holds all the answers the universe is still holding back from you in that matter.

Sighing in mild frustration you remember once again your dad's words.

 _Whenever it is time for you to meet them._

You take a sip of your cider, finding comfort in the sweet spiced drink and an encouraging surge of patience in your father's words, and when your gaze returns to the happy couple who has been so lucky to find themselves so young, your smile is a little more cheerful.

. . .

It is only when you are at your last year of high school and are taking in consideration different near colleges that would be happy to have you that the first dream comes to you, although, just like the majority of people, you'll only realize that later.

When you wake up in the morning you blame the weird, confused dream you had on all those colleges letters and brochures and general ideas that have filled your head about how going to college would be like. About all the new people that you would meet there, the classes that you would like to follow, and, of course, about the occasional campus parties that you would like to attend to.

So yes, at first you don't think much about that strange product of your mind, and you blame its rather puzzling content on your general excitement about college, because otherwise, you wouldn't have had _any_ reason to dream about some sort of hard rock/heavy metal concert, booze and people getting inked.

It is only when a couple of weeks later you do the exact same dream for two nights in a row that realization finally sinks into you.

You can barely hold your excitement when you wake up. Reveling in the feeling of what this means as you think about the dream, replaying it in your head over and over again in search for something more.

The hard rock music and concert-like atmosphere was always present, so was the crowd jumping at the rhythm. You remember the feeling of the basses rumbling in your chest, the half-empty bottles of booze abandoned everywhere, and the glimpse of someone getting inked in a corner.

But besides the main scene that feels already kind of familiar to you, there are indeed more details presents. New elements that shine like a beacon in your memory.

And it is probably the contrasting nature of those new elements against the rest of the content of the dream that makes them so relevant to you, because the last thing that you would have ever expected to find in a setting like that, are random piles of books, and... Roses.

Velvety petals of red roses scattered on the floor.

For how much you force yourself to, you can't remember anything else, but the development certainly intrigues you, and as the dreams keep coming to visit you almost on a regular basis, with few added hints here and there, it is impossible to hold back your imagination about the main setting and start wondering things like,

 _Is my soulmate the musician of some band? A tattoo artist? Or maybe just someone who likes to party a lot?_

It is still pretty generic, especially the atmosphere, especially around this age, but you spend hours fantasizing about it nonetheless, just like everyone does when you start to flip over the pieces of that wide mysterious puzzle, and as you do, you also wonder what it is that your soulmate dreams about you. What the pieces the have been given them are currently showing...

. . .

You know that when you were a little girl your dad was been reassuring, optimistic even, when he said to you that the dreams would have started when you were about to meet your soulmate. But now that you are older you know, and have seen, that besides a few rare exception, it could take more time for people to put the pieces together, and maybe even longer before they met that person, or vice versa.

All of that meant more dreams in the meantime, hopefully, more progression in them, more clues to help you out, and a lot of more patience.

It can get pretty frustrating sometimes. And in those occasions, even if you don't approve of such methods, you kind of understand why there is a whole cult all around the world about people that abuse of potentially dangerous substances to induce a rather long, deep sleep that will produce pretty vivid dreams; fanatics determined until the end and at any cost to find any clue about their other half in their dreams, ignoring the common knowledge that for those specific dreams to come to you, you have to live and explore the waking world around you, as it is the one that shapes the dreams themselves on your experiences.

You can search Morpheus' realm all you want, get lost in its uncharted depths in some vain attempt to hunt down those dreams, but recurring dreams about soulmates are, by definition, always a casual, sporadic event. There is no way of knowing when the next one will come.

It happens that people don't dream for months sometimes. And when it happens...

Well...

Having no dreams is usually not a good sign.

It happens to you too.

A week without having the faintest flash of a concert in your sleep is nothing uncommon. Neither is two.

But when two weeks turns into three, and then three into a full month, you start to worry.

Now you understand why there is a whole bunch of crazy people who would do anything to sleep all day even if it means receive back just the tiniest clue about their soulmate.

At the fifth consecutive dreamless week you almost lose it. You find yourself going to bed earlier and sleeping in a few minutes longer in the morning, eager for those extra moments that you can get in the infinite land of dreams, because those dreams that have kept you company at night are no longer coming to visit you.

You swallow thickly at the thought. Refusing to surrender to the tears that have pricked your eyes for weeks now. Because you know what the sudden lack of those specific dreams could mean...

No.

You don't even dare to think about it.

Because you don't know what you would do if that is the case. If, like you have heard has already tragically happened, it really means that your soulmate is no longer in this world and you would never meet them, would never know how it feels like being complete, being loved, being reunited with the someone that is supposed to always finds you in every world, every life, where time and space don't affect the eternal bond you share.

The thought alone is distressing, to say the least. It has you on a thin, dangerously sharp edge for weeks.

You are seriously taking in consideration the idea of talking to someone about these concerns of yours, when one day, during a lesson of modern history, you fall asleep on your desk.

You really didn't mean to.

Even in your incredibly anxious state you still love going to class, listening to what has been in the lost times and taking notes helps you get distracted, but you are just so exhausted by those persistent thoughts that have gotten you so worried lately, that your mind gives into your emotional turmoil, making you fall into a brief but surprisingly deep nap.

It starts like any other time.

Loud music that you know you'll forget the rhythm as soon as you wake up, a crowd bouncing up and down singing along words you can't quite make out. You dream again of flesh and ink, of booze and a party atmosphere that smells of sweat and feels muggy on your skin, and then just as you were taking in the various books and scattered rose petals, for the first time since the dreams have started, you notice a blurred figure standing beside you.

Try to make out the profile is impossible in the haze of the dream, but you surely do register the unexpected distinctive sensation of a hand slipping into yours.

You wake up with a start. Knocking the books from your desk and into the floor with a thud that echoes loudly all around and makes the entire class turn to stare at you.

The silence is extremely awkward, you however, as you regain control of your still buzzing half asleep body, can barely contain the grin on your face, gathering your things and running out of class in a rush of relief and immeasurable joy, with only one thing in your mind.

Because this means that they are still out there somewhere. And they are safe.

You couldn't have asked for a more comforting proof, and you would have never, ever hoped to receive it like this. With a _touch_. So simple, yet so intimate in its innocence.

An unspoken "I'm still here."

Because, somehow, you know that that person from your dream wasn't just a random figure like the ones in the crowd.

For how brief, in that split second of connection, something has stirred in you. And it felt like having a second heartbeat.

Your hand still tingles at the memory, and the smile never leaves your lips for the rest of the day.

. . .

You have never planned to preserve yourself, in _that_ way, for your soulmate. Never decided what to do about your sexual life in general in the meantime actually, too taken by other things or simply not captivated enough by other people.

The idea of waiting till you would have met them seemed quite romantic actually when you were younger.

However...

Your hormones end up getting the better of you.

You don't exactly regret the bunch of one night stands that you have had during your first years in college with a few guys you barely knew. But honestly, even now you keep wondering what all the fuss about sex was about.

It's not like it isn't enjoyable, but you have to admit that you have found much deeper satisfaction with your own hand in your single bed.

It doesn't stop you from occasionally sleeping with someone though, giving in to the desire of another warm body pressed against yours for some time during a lonely evening more than for the sex itself.

You feel weak for giving in, especially with such pitiful excuses.

There are people that consider it cheating; sleeping around before meeting your soulmate.

You don't.

Because hell, you may be tied to someone in a cosmic way till the end of the times, but you still have free will, and you have decided that it can't possibly be cheating if you still don't know who your other half is. You don't feel obligated to do or don't do something, and many think about it this way too, but still, doesn't matter what you tell yourself, you still feel a little bad at the end of the day whenever you end up in bed with someone you know you would never share that deep, unique emotional connection.

It is after yet another disappointing sexual encounter - the last one, you have promised to yourself given the very poor outcome and frustrating lack of release - after you make it back into your dorm that things change in a way you would have never, ever imagined they were going to.

You take a shower to get rid of the sensation that makes you feel somehow dirty more than because you need it, and then you go right to bed, exhausted and annoyed for so many reasons, included the familiar need that is still swirling in your lower abdomen.

Just as you consider taking care of yourself, you fall asleep, your hand halfway down your panties.

The loud music greets you in a scenery that you know like the back of your hand by now.

It is strange, however, how the surrounding is always the same and yet coming here still manages to feel new every time. You can't quite understand the feeling, but usually, at this point, you know you are dreaming, doesn't matter how incredibly realistic everything appears. How impossibly authentic and true everything feels.

You swim through the crowd with an ease that would be impossible in reality, and once you surface on the other side you are immediately drawn to the lone figure that seems to be there waiting for you.

This kind of turns is all very new, so much that you consider if you are really sleeping or if it is just your imagination running wild.

You don't care. Whatever it is, you just let it flow as a wild spark of excitement that gets ignited and fueled when that figure takes you by your hand once again, only this time it doesn't stop there. Oh no... This time, as you catch the glimpse of petals and even tiny blossoms of roses and piles of books, you get lead into a new more secluded area, away from everything. Some sort of private room you think, where the music barely reaches you.

The vibe of the dream changes with the unknown setting as well, into something resembling anticipation growing in your chest, and at the first chance you have to glance around the room, there is almost too much to take in so suddenly.

Foldable maps, a compass, vinyl records, dozens of beautiful red roses seem to cover every surface along with a few more books piled up on a table, and... a pair of black rimmed glasses sitting on top.

You are so taken aback by the presence of all those new details that you almost forget about the other presence there with you, until you get pulled towards them, that's it, because then...

Your head starts spinning and it takes you a moment to realize that it's because of the feeling of a pair of lips pressed gently against yours. Whatever remnant of the laws of physics that had followed into this domain stop to exists as your knees buckle under your own weight and your entire body melts from the inside at the gloriously dizzy sensation.

And God...

When people use the phrase "never in my wildest dreams" they really still have no idea what they are talking about if they don't experience something at least half as vivid and intense as this.

The tip of a tongue traces your lower lip, and you find yourself parting your lips eagerly. Because there is something so tender in it, but also passionate, scorching. Wanting but not demanding. Sensations and emotions are heightened in dreams, but this...

Your moan dies in your throat as you get pulled into another kiss, a much deeper one, sweetly bruising. And you are so that you almost don't register the hand that slides further down your body with purpose, going lower and cupping your center, putting pressure right where you need it the most. But it's not quite enough. And your companion seems to realize that too.

Because suddenly you find yourself on your back on one of the couches, completely naked it seems, since and all you can focus on is the feeling of soft lips leaving a trail of kisses and teasing bites along your neck and collarbone.

Despite your desire to want to look down and see if you can catch a glimpse of the face of this... person... your eyes flutter shut as the assault of tenderly hungry lips continues lower on your chest, and roll into the back of your head when a hand cup gently yet firmly your breast and your nipple gets sucked into an inviting warm mouth.

Your body feels stuck, heavy, too heavy even to breathe properly, held down by the desperate need to just _feel_. Try to move is an inconceivable thought. You want to reach down and pull them up to but you get something even better instead when that same warmth runs lower down your body and gets wrapped around where you are throbbing with need.

For a few infinite seconds you feel like drowning, breathing the unmistakable smell of your arousal. Only able to feel the pleasure coursing and burning like a drug through your veins and skyrocketing in the moment you register a gentle pressure parting you, just beneath the lips sucking you so languidly, and making its way past your entrance as the skilled tongue of before starts swirling expertly around you with the only purpose to make you feel everything.

You don't know what happens next.

All you know is that you desperately search for something to hold onto, trying to get your body to respond to your commands, and a heartbeat later it finally does. Jerking violently.

You wake up with the first devastating wave of your orgasm. A broken moan rumbling in the back of your throat as your body shudders with the heart-stopping pleasure you have just received in another dimension and dragged forcefully into this.

Hands gripping the sheets. Toes curling. Head tossed back as the tight knot in your lower abdomen unfurls so deliciously in an unexpected flood of wet warmth.

The disorientation is so overwhelming that everytime awareness seems to have a grasp on you, you slip away once again, feeling somehow trapped between two worlds with different laws, panting for air. Eyes wide. Still unable to wrap your mind around what just happened although even in your bewildered state you know exactly what happened.

It still doesn't lessen your shock however, especially not when you realize in mild horror that your underwear as well as a nice portion of the sheets of your bed, are completely soaked in your release. Waves of aftershock still crashing into you for what seems to be entire minutes, until you are reduced into a shuddering, panting mess and collapse boneless onto your bed in between occasional twitches.

Fuck.

Whoever your soulmate is, you think as you struggle to recover, they surely know what they were doing.

As you take in the mess on your bed you look around the dorm and are suddenly immeasurably grateful that your roommate wasn't here.

You feel drained, chest heaving with each breath you force in, but your entire body hums in a way it has never done before.

Satisfied.

Sated.

Exhaustion takes over even above the mild shock and utter puzzlement, managing to fall asleep again in just a matter of minutes before you can do something about the damp sheets, unable to shake off the sudden loneliness that you feel wrapped around you against the contrasting feeling of contentment that fills your chest.

. . .

You never have sex with anyone else after that. You had already promised that to yourself, but after such event, you really don't think you could even if you wanted to.

The memory is too beautiful, too perfect and too precious to be tainted by meaningless, disappointing sex with someone you'd barely remember the name after and that you'd surely end up regretting.

But you do crave for that caring, accurate touch.

You cherish that experience, losing count of how many times your hand slips into your underwear as you replay that tape in your head over and over again. And the more you play it, recalling all the details you can about that rather intimate encounter, the more an idea starts taking form and making sense in the back of your mind.

You hate the fact that, just after a couple of weeks, a few details are starting to fade, but you still cling onto those that you still remember vividly, and pieces keep falling into place, at least in that department, which is still a big improvement you think, as your first suspicion turns slowly into a possible, more conscious reality.

. . .

"I think my soulmate is a woman."

It is after your graduation, when you are in your new apartment with your best friend, curled up in the couch with pizza and beer and an abandoned documentary about swans playing quietly in the background on the tv, that you finally voice, for the first time out loud, the idea that has formed in your mind in the past couple of months.

You didn't even mean to say that actually. But there is no sudden surprise or striking realization in your tone when those words finally leave your lips, in fact it sounded pretty much like you were pondering about getting another slice of pizza or ice cream. Although the reaction that such revelation has on your best friend is not just as... casual.

You should have probably been more present, you think, snapping from your brooding state at the unmistikable sputtered noise of your friend chocking on her beer.

The priceless look of surprise on her face, however, makes it very hard for you to hold back a laugh or even regret the bluntness of your unplanned... announcement, that almost made her choke.

"Why?" She asks at last in between adjusting coughs that don't certainly mask her curiosity as she recovers. "What makes you think so?"

She is not shocked at the news. You have always been unconcernedly fluid about your sexuality even if you haven't had the chance to experiment it fully... Yet.

And same-sex soulmates are hardly rare. But dreams about soulmates are extremely personal, and usually, they are rarely shared if not with very close, very trusted friends or family members. It's not the kind of conversation that people decides to initiate over coffee out of the blue. And although you trust Polly and she knows about the general setting of your dreams as you know about hers, you are still somehow reluctant to share details about them. Especially the latest _very_ explicit details of the latest ones.

So no, you don't tell your best friend that you might, possibly, have had sex with your soulmate in your dreams. It still sounds crazy enough to you, and you certainly don't need Polly to look at you with the same stubborn skepticism that keeps lingering in your mind despite your convictions.

But at her question, the same one that you have asked to yourself lately many times, you start thinking about what planted that suspicion in your mind in the first place.

You close your eyes briefly, recalling that rather vivid dream.

Remembering the passion without urgency.

The gentle, almost teasing possessiveness of touches and kisses and pleasantly stinging bites.

...the tender fullness inside you.

So different than the one you were used to feel.

So accurate and focused.

So... perfect.

The whole perception that your dream-lover seemed to have towards you, to what you needed, seeming to know exactly how to touch you...

Dreams also reflect our desires, but still... That one wasn't just the product of your sexual need.

You squirm on the spot at the memory, legs pressed together to contain that light throb, your eyes fluttering open to see your best friend giving you a certain look of intrigue and an amused arched eyebrow, waiting patiently for an answer.

"It's... Just a feeling." You shrug nonchalantly after a second of hesitation.

Polly doesn't insist, thankfully, but you can feel her gaze and her knowing smirk on you as realization sinks in on her while your mind starts to wander again towards places you can't seem to stop visiting and that always manage to shape an almost shy smile on your lips.

. . .

Your relatively new, shiny double major, for how hard-earned, doesn't make finding a job any easier like you first thought it would be, and the ones that you find are not exactly the kind you have studied your ass off for, or that even require a college degree actually.

But you surely do need a job.

Moving to the city seemed like you could have more possibilities offered to you than waiting tables, but as you walk into yet another bar with that only one thought that keeps you company these days and receive yet another disappointment at your seemingly endless and desperate search for an employment, you think that maybe coming to New York was not such a great idea after all.

Or... maybe not.

Catching the movement at your side with the corner of your eye, your gaze shifts automatically to the tall figure that is approaching you at the counter.

And for a moment, for a broken second, as your eyes land on probably the most intriguing woman you have ever seen, you are assaulted by an overwhelming sense of something awfully similar to a deja vu.

A heartbeat later is already gone.

You blink regaining focus, but all you can see is long dark hair, perfect alabaster skin, a deep red smirk, and curves that you can make out through a dress that is enough to make your mouth water.

Her beauty is ridiculous, really.

You must have said hi at some point, because now she is talking to you. And when she speaks, all you can think about is how her voice feels like dark refined velvet, that catches at the edges when she laughs. A sound deep and rich. Its slightly raspy quality makes you wish you could touch it.

You don't even care so much about the fact that she is innocently teasing you, but you flush in mild embarrassment anyway.

You just will your astonishment to remain contained, your voice to remain steady and your heart to not leap right out of your chest. But as you talk with her, the rest of your being, your entire body, and that something that swells so beautifully in your chest, produces a feeling, a thought, that you haven't have listened for some time as you get lost into bright, stunning emerald pools. The traces of gold in there standing out with a glint of mischief and amusement when you, utterly mesmerized don't even realize asking her "Who are you?"

Her smile is more in her playfully narrowed eyes than on those generous slightly curled red lips when she answers you with an impish yet confident "My name is Alex."

Your mind, just as all your senses, is too crowded by amazement to go there and even just dare to touch _that_ specific thought right now, but some part hidden inside you, the part living proudly in your heartbeat and in the pure essence of your being in a level that goes beyond consciousness and purely physicality, does.

You just don't realize how its effect on you is echoed by the glorious fluttering feeling in your chest.

* * *

 **Once again it came out way longer than what I wanted and the whole idea is probably a bit silly, but the concept for this story was kind of persistent, lol, so... Here it is. If you are still interested however there is the whole "realizing she is your actual soulmate" part to come :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Hi there!

I know, I know, it's really been a long while since I posted the first chapter of this fic and I've left you all kind of hanging for continuation. I'm so sorry to keep you guys waiting for so long, believe me, but Vauseman mood was low, and I'm also writing another fanfiction about this other OTP, so... Yep, since I'm more into that other pairing I didn't want to rush this work and risk giving you something that was OOC and wasn't _purely_ Vauseman or that had some bits of Sanvers traits in it, lol, so I prefered to take my time.

I want to thank you all for your patience however, which I'm gonna need to ask you to have a little more while I'm writing these two fics, and I also want to thank you for all the wonderful kind words you have left in the comments :D Really, at first I wasn't even sure about this idea but it seems you have liked it and I'm so, _so_ happy you did :) So thank you so very much.

Like I said, the inital idea for this was a two-shot, but of course, it came out longer, I hope you don't mind :)

Oh, one last thing before I leave you to this. I noticed that in the AN of the first chapter I forgot to mention that since this fic is a canon-divergence AU, I decided to stick to the main facts (like how Alex and Piper met and everything in between) but I decided to change Alex's occupation, because the whole drug dealer business would have changed the tone of the story into a too serious one, when this is suppoused to be mostly "romantic" so... Here. Just wanted to mention the divergence, and it'll all make sense when you read the profession I chose for her :)

Now I'll leave you to the chapter :D

Enjoy

* * *

Alex Vause is all you can think about.

Ever since you met her your thoughts have been filled with flashes of a mischievous smirk, long dark hair, ivory skin and stunning emerald eyes.

She is easily the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.

And even if your interaction has been relatively brief, much to your disappointment, the short time has been more than enough for the woman to have a certain effect on you, that's for sure.

There is something just so... compelling about her.

You don't know what it is exactly, if it is just a physical thing or if it has to do with the whole veil of mystery that she keeps wrapped around her. All you know is that try to get Alex out of your thoughts is nearly impossible.

And this could be the reason why you may or may not find yourself there in that same bar you met her, an exact week later, purely by coincidence, of course, trying to tell to your very contradictory self that you are not so pleased and excited after all when you happen to spot her sitting at the counter with a glass of whiskey as her only companion.

The grin on your face, however, says otherwise.

You work up some courage, willing your heart rate to remain within a normal range, before sliding into the stool next to her. Very discreetly. Or at least that's what you think before she greets you without tearing her gaze away from her glass and with an infuriatingly smug, "I was wondering how much longer you would have stayed there and keep staring at me before joining."

Were you staring at her?

Pfft. No, of course not.

That's ridiculous.

...It's totally possible.

You deny the accusation with a sputtered "I wasn't staring!"

She just smirks and orders you a margarita.

"Tough day?" You ask, fighting against the flush on your face and tilting your chin to what you can sense must be at least her second glass.

She shrugs taking another sip and suddenly your mouth feels incredibly dry at the sight of those rosy, generous lips sealing delicately around the rim.

You swallow.

Where's that margarita?

"More like a couple of very busy ones, but with my job, I'm kinda used to it." She answers at last and you are infinitely glad for the distraction provided.

You didn't really have the occasion to talk much the first time. She was there with her friends and you were just passing by, so you hope you don't sound too intrusive when you tentatively ask her about her job. Then you remember that she has actually snooped and teased you about your résumé and that sensation that made you feel like you might be prying turns into a "it just seems fair".

If only you could have somehow prepared yourself for her answer...

"I'm a manager for a couple of rock bands."

For a moment, you feel like being underwater. The sounds around you, the music in the bar, the quiet chatting and soft laughter at the tables feel muffled. At the only exception for the loud, powerful thud in your chest that echoes in your ears. And the sensation doesn't get better when she continues.

"I just got back tonight from a four day tour in Texas, and I needed a drink."

You try, you really do, but eventually the curiousity and that something swirling inside you get the better of you.

"So... I take it you travel a lot then?"

Your hands are getting sweaty and the way you ask that question sounds suspicious to your own ears, and Alex notices the tentativeness in your tone if the way she smirks at you so infuriatingly is any indication. God this woman.

"I do actually," She answers with a nod. "All over the country, sometimes in Europe, it depends, really."

"Sounds exciting." You didn't even mean for that thought to slip past your lips, but it happens, glad that Alex for once doesn't think much of the comment.

"Yeah well, it doesn't require a major in comparative literature," Of course she can't resist the temptation to tease you again, and you roll your eyes. "Although I do love reading."

This time you force your thoughts not to go there, you force yourself to think "coincidences", because she certainly isn't the only woman on earth who likes reading and wears black rimmed glasses and travels a lot and is at a concert almost every day.

But still, doesn't matter how hard you try, you know that you can't stop that flicker of suspicious that has settled in your chest from brightening into something resembling dangerous hope.

You just nod, taking a generous sip of your drink as soon as it is placed in front of you, willing that feeling away, or at least trying to subdue it with the light buzz of the tequila.

"What about you, Piper Chapman?" She asks then with a lopsided smile. "I bet the best parts of yourself are the ones you have left out of your résumé."

Oh, she's good.

You'll give her that.

She probably has a girl in every port, as they say. She definitely looks like the kind of person who likes to party and have fun in every possible way. And given her natural charm and mischievous looks you can only imagine what kind of entertainments she enjoys most if the way she is looking at you right now is any indication.

She doesn't even try to mask her appreciation as she scans you up and down, lingering on the most... exposed... places. Like your long legs.

Part of you is a little bit tempted to throw your drink in her face actually, mostly out of curiosity to see how she will react.

The other part however... revels in the feeling. So oddly invigorating.

You make a show to uncross and recross your legs as slowly and as sensually as you can manage and...

God.

You can practically feel the heat of her gaze as it runs almost hungrily from your calf, past your knee, all the way to your upper thighs, stopping there only because the hem of your dress blocks the view further up.

A delicious shiver crawls up your spine.

No one has _ever_ looked at you that way.

In the end, you decide not to throw your margarita at her, because it's way too good. You just answer her with a teasing "I might have left out a few things" that is promptly met with another one of those captivating smirks.

"Like what?"

She slides closer to you and you can't help the way your eyes flutter shut when, in the movement, you catch a sniff of her perfume. Both delicate and strong. With a refined fresh note that reminds you of the ocean breeze.

It is more intoxicating than the tequila in your drink.

You decide to stay. Talking to Alex for the rest of the night. Because you figure that there is nothing wrong in wanting to know something more about this mysterious woman whose teasing looks and rich deep laughter make your heart flutter at a new rhythm.

At the end of the night she gives you her business card with her number on it.

"For a drink when I come back to the city, if you feel like it." She says when she hands it to you. And there is no way you can fight the smile that tugs at your lips at that invitation.

You still try to play it cool, but Alex seems to read right through you and when you answer with a pretended nonchalant "maybe" not wanting to appear as eager as you feel as you tuck carefully and discreetly away the card into your jacket, the raven-haired woman just smirks knowingly at you.

You literally just met her and yet, you already know that there is no way you could ever fool this woman. She is too perceptive. Too observant. You haven't detected a single chink in her cool demeanor, and yet, she has proven you that mischievous smirks are not the only expression she can manage with you around to amuse her, the genuine smiles that she has flashed you when you have revealed some bits about yourself, are just as charming and beautiful.

Maybe you are not as observant as she is, but before you part ways, you don't miss the way her eyes flicker on your lips for a brief second.

And when she shrugs her leather jacket on, you definitely don't miss the hint of the tribal tattoo that gets revealed when the sleeve of her shirt rides up a little in the movement.

As you watch her walk away and disappear into the crowd of customers that have gathered, the word "coincidence" is already starting to sound fake, while the frantic beats of your heart feel a lot more real.

 **. . .**

You don't tell anyone about Alex. About those suspicious that have started to grow.

It's not like you have that great amount of friends here in the city anyway, but you do feel a bit guilty for not saying a word to your best friend either.

Although it really seems like you can't keep anything from her.

Your silence tends to be too loud.

It is a couple of days after that "accidental" encounter with Alex at the bar, during one of yours and Polly movie, pizza and beer evening on your couch that your best friend gets the first suspicion that something is going on with you.

"You know, I hope you do realize you have been smiling like an idiot for half of the movie."

And there it is.

You could easily justify the smile that is indeed tugging at your lips on seeing a humorous Jack Lemmon dressed as a woman on the screen, but it's not the kind of smile that shows amusement, and you know Polly won't be fooled by such excuse.

The time that you take to find an answer only gets her more suspicious.

"What is it Pipes? Spill."

You shake your head and shrug nonchalantly.

"It's nothing, really. No reason."

And now, thanks to that poor choice of words, she knows something is definitely up.

You dare a glance at her and... _Yes,_ there it is.

Eyes widening, mouth falling open and a look of pure realization slowly shaping her features.

"Oh my God! You met someone!"

Ugh.

Seriously?

That's just creepy.

You are going to start spending less time together.

"What are you talking about? I haven't met any-"

But playing it cool doesn't work. Polly interrupts you with a dismissive wave as she turns to face you completely.

"Cut the bullshit Pipes, who are they?"

You sigh. Undecided if for the future you should learn to keep your emotions hidden a little better or if you should become a better liar.

You doubt you'll succeed in either of the two.

You don't go into details, you don't even tell her Alex's name or that she is a woman, and you _definitely_ don't tell her about all the pieces of the puzzle that seem to fit just perfectly with your dreams. Because you could be wrong. You could be wrong about everything you have ever dreamed about. You could have interpreted the hints in a wrong way, you could have missed an essential part entirely, and you could definitely be wrong about Alex, too.

You just met the woman, for Christ's sake.

And yet... That part of your mind keeps pestering you relentlessly.

Because deep down, where not even doubt can't reach, you know you can't have gotten everything wrong. And that there is a reason why you feel such a pull towards Alex.

You only realize that you have gone silent for a while when you hear Polly's apologetic, "Sorry, I probably shouldn't have forced you to tell me this."

You snap back from your brooding state at her words and force a smile on your face. "It's okay. It's just..." A sigh. "That I don't feel like talking about it when I'm feeling so confused, you know?"

She nods and gives you a sympathetic smile before pulling you into a side hug. You allow it, and welcome the reassurance and warmth it brings as you exhale your frustration.

"You should go out with them, you know." She suggests then after a minute of comforting silence, kissing the top of your head and you smile at that big sister attitude. "Maybe it will help you make some clarity spending some time together."

"Mh, maybe."

Polly is right. You think about her words for the rest of the evening, and later that night, you text Alex.

You have to know.

 _Hey, it's Piper. Are you still up for that drink you promised?_

You send the text without thinking too much about it, without rereading it, or else you know it would only feed your doubts.

Pretending that you don't practically launch yourself towards your phone when it buzzes with a new text shortly after.

Pretending that it's not a grin the one that is making your cheeks hurt when you read the affirmative answer, and not fooling yourself not even one bit.

 **. . .**

Alex comes back to the city a few days later and you have agreed to meet her at another bar of her choice.

 _Great drinks,_ she promised. _And even better food._

It sounds so much like a date that you have to steady yourself and repeat over and over that it isn't, deciding to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach with that mix of nervousness and anticipation that you have heard about but never experienced before as you take a little longer to get ready for the evening.

The extra time spent choosing a nice dress but that made it look like it didn't seem you put too much effort in your preparation, however, is all repaid in the moment you walk into the quaint bar, and this time, when you spot Alex on one of the tables, she is the one who can't help but stare at you.

"Nice outfit." Is all she says in greetings along with a pleased smile, and you grin, taking in her boots, tight black jeans, blouse and leather jacket. Casual attire, and yet it looks neat and almost elegant on her.

"You don't look bad yourself."

You take the seat across from her on the small table and only now realize how cozy and intimate the spot she has chosen is, away from the main clientele and how Alex's knee brushes delicately against yours under the table. You are so very close and you can't help but notice how the pleasantly dim illumination caresses her features, in such a beautiful way you can barely take your gaze off her. Not even when a waiter comes to take your order.

"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised you decided to accept my invitation, Piper." She confesses when you are alone once again, and...

Well. This... _This_ is something you weren't quite expecting from her.

The tentativeness and bared hint of uncertainty don't seem to fit her so comfortably. And you suspect that she probably isn't used in showing it.

"Why?"

She shrugs and offers you a suspicious smile. "I don't know, it's just... I got the impression you weren't exactly the kind of girl who accepted invitations from a stranger, that's all."

A small part of you should feel maybe a bit offended, because you don't like to be judged by a first impression, and you don't like the idea of falling into a category or being labeled. In the end however, you end up chuckling, because she is so observant and... She's right.

"Oh, you are not wrong about that." You admit, thinking about your random hooks up in college and about how more reserved you have become recently. Maybe even a little more mature. "I don't usually do _this_ sort of things." You say gesturing between the two of you and looking around the pleasantly lively bar.

Alex smirks looking pleased by your answer, and even more as you continue.

"It's just..." You pause, looking at her, biting your bottom lip, catching that glint of... _something,_ into those impossibly mystic green eyes... _You intrigue me._ "I was curious."

She laughs. Soft and deep. A rich sound that touches a string hidden somewhere in your chest that you didn't even know was there.

"Curious, huh?"

The quirked eyebrow is a nice touch in her both puzzled and amused expression.

You give her a half nod.

"Well, curiosity is what made me ask you out in the first place too, kid."

Your mind goes fuzzy for a second, first because there is the absurd possibility that you might have intrigued Alex as much as she has you, and then there is that term of endearment that rolls off her tongue with that note of... affection.

When you finally recover there is a drink in front of you and Alex is looking even funnier at you, probably because of the added layer of pink on your cheeks and you try to divert her attention by asking her a genuinely interested, "And what were you so curious to know about me exactly?"

Alex gives you that look again. The both dark, enigmatic and seductive one that makes you glad you are sitting because of the way your knees buckle when she simply answers with, "Everything you are willing to share."

And this time, you don't hold back.

When she asks something you talk about yourself openly, lowering more barriers than you know is wise, but you can't help it.

Because talking with someone has never felt so easy and right and... effortless. And with Alex you can really talk about everything and anything.

She's smart. Incredibly so. And it is nice to engage in a conversation with someone so brilliant, who enjoys the same topics you do. Not to mention that your sense of humor is very similar, too. Dry. Tending to refined sarcasm on occasions.

She's also a constant shameless flirt, trying to get you all flustered in the most clever and subtle ways every time she can. It's infuriating how easily she succeeds, as if she knows exactly where to hit, and the sight of your mild irritation and contrasting intrigue clearly amuses her to no end.

As the evening progresses, you think that even if you are wrong about Alex, about her not being... the one... for you, you still would want her in some way in your life. Maybe as a... friend.

At least that's what you think until the night comes to an end and you find yourselves outside the bar, into the cool night air, and you understand that you could never be just friends.

Not when you catch the dark unveiled desire in her gaze when she tells you that she enjoys your company. Not when her eyes flicker again, and linger on your parted lips. Not when she cups your cheek in her warm palm and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear with the gentlest touch it has ever been offered to you.

You are not sure who leans in first.

But before your eyes flutter shut you see a flash of fragments of gold sparkling on the bottom of deep green pools, and then you are consumed by the feeling of soft, moist warmth.

And it is clear, from the first touch of those lips on yours - those lips you have secretly spent so long fantasizing about - that it won't be enough. And your body agrees, as it wakes from a sort of slumber you didn't even know was experiencing. But it's the only explanation you can come up with for the way it reacts to Alex; for the first time is telling you exactly what it needs as she brings you closer to her warmth and her strong, solid form.

But you have already felt like this.

Just... not when you were awake.

When you part it is because your lungs are burning and your heart feels like it might leap right out of your chest, but even in this hazed, frantic state you still manage a few words.

Your only desire right now.

Your only need.

"You mentioned living not far from here?"

Her answer is to kiss you again.

Deeper.

Hungrier.

But soft all at once.

Enough for you to be able to feel the tug of that infuriating, gorgeous, trademark smirk against your own lips.

* * *

 **That charming Alex Vause smirk. I know... I'm a tease.**


	3. Chapter 3

Hi everyone!

I managed to finish this chapter a little earlier and so here I am :) I worked a little more on this one because I wanted to finish it sooner and post it as a thank you for being so patient and so flattering with all your lovely comments. I am so very happy to know that you are enjoying this little story, I don't plan to make this long, just a couple more chapters probably, but for now, I'll leave you to this.

Oh, one last thing... Should I keep warning you guys about the smutty parts? :P I mean, I think you kinda know my style by now and are aware of how much I love playing with these two in _that_ way, but I'll say it anyway, so... Here's some Vauseman smut :D

Enjoy

* * *

You are perfectly aware of that feeling, of the mingled sense of nervousness and eagerness swirling inside you, of that tightness of anticipation knotting your stomach, of the excitedly sinking realization of what is happening that is having your heart pounding furiously in your chest and pumping adrenaline - almost painfully - in your veins.

But for how intense and intoxicating, there is a more persistent, burning sensation that is making you feel weak at the knees, making your hands shake and twitch and tingle with want; it is the one of heavy arousal and desperate need that is clenching your core and pooling between your legs, making you ache in the most exquisite ways as you and Alex stumble, with your lips locked in a never-ending, deep, famished kiss, past her front door, down the hallway and towards what you imagine is her bedroom, knocking more than one thing down on your way there, but Alex doesn't seem to care about anything else besides kissing you with a demanding mouth and a voracious tongue, and you don't care about anything else besides being kissed with such unbendable dominance. Except maybe for that hand peaking under the hem of your dress, caressing your inner thigh with tingling fingertips that are driving you mad.

You are already fumbling with her own clothes, slipping her out of that fabulous leather jacket that looks so delicious on her, but that you think would look much better as a decoration for the floor with the rest of your discarded clothes.

There is readiness and want and such a pulsing fervor behind your movements that it's hard to believe it's all coming from you, but it feels real, easy, and _right_ in the most absolute way, so you really don't understand why on earth, in the moment you reach for the front of her shirt and start unbuttoning it - almost tearing the damn thing open in frustration when the third button doesn't budge - you suddenly pull back from that toe-curling kiss and - in an unexpected broken second of hesitation - you blurt out a breathless, warning, "I'veneverbeenwithawomanbefore."

Your eyes widen as soon as those words rush out from your mouth, and you think that if you could, you would slap yourself in the face. Not only for rambling such thing during a dizzyingly lust fueled moment like this, but because you have never, ever stammered in that way, with anyone, in any circumstance, and never before your voice has sounded so nervous, so insecure even, as if scared that that information might kill the mood and, most of all, Alex's desire for you.

...How stupid and naive of you to even think such thing for that miserable second.

Because Alex starts chuckling, utterly amused by that stuttered warning and the sight of your flushed face.

But despite your stunned embarrassment, you are actually not even a bit surprised by such reaction.

Because _of course_ she would have reacted like this.

You barely know her, but you are starting to become familiar with that confident, teasing character of hers. And deep down you knew you couldn't have expected something other than the _"then let me show you what you have been missing out"_ dark, seductive, almost feral grin that she flashes you in response before leaning in and claiming your mouth once again, kissing you senseless as her hands slid under your dress for the rest of the way, gripping your thighs and teasing the waistband of your - soaked - lace panties.

And you can't take it anymore, you reach back for the zip of your dress, feeling Alex's smirk against your lips at the impatient gesture before helping you step out of it, leaving you just with your underwear and the attractive flush that starts spreading down your neck and chest when you realize that Alex is still mostly dressed, and you are suddenly feeling very exposed.

Your fingers twitch with desire of taking off her shirt and reveal the rest of the generous cleavage you have a glimpse of, but that striking sense of realization of before is catching up with you in front of this vision, rendering you unable to move, although it still has you burning with want, and Alex seems to read that very well as she takes in the obvious request written in your darkening eyes, in your lip biting, and starts unbuttoning the last buttons left without tearing her gaze away from you, probably enjoying the further dilatation of your pupils and the sight of your chest heaving with shallow breaths as she reveals to you more of her ivory skin.

Your temporary inability to move is gone in the moment she slides the shirt off her, replaced by the itching need to know how that smooth looking, creamy skin feels under your hands.

She is _so_ beautiful, so warm, a blanket of soft skin spread over an unexpected solid layer of muscles that ripple in time with her perfectly controlled breathing.

Watching and feeling that elegant play on her taut stomach is enough to make you groan, but the sight that has most of your attention and is making your mouth water, are her breasts.

Unable to resist for a second longer, you immediately reach for the hooks on her back, probably a little too eagerly, because Alex laughs softly at your enthusiasm and stops your frantic movements with such a gentle touch that you wonder how she manages to keep herself so composed while you are struggling so hard only to remember to keep breathing.

"Easy there kid, we are in no rush." She reassures you, and even if you almost whimper at the idea of not releasing those full, generous breasts under your appreciating gaze, your body hums at Alex's implication that she has every intention to take her time with you. And she confirms it when she takes a step closer to you, trademark smirk firmly in place and a promise burning through that darkening green gaze when her hand comes up to cup and squeezes gently your breast, whispering a promising, "I wanna give you a good first impression."

You shiver under her touch, much to her delight, when her thumb flicks across your hardening nipple and you can't really suppress that moan that has formed in your chest from coming out like a shuddering gasp when she bends and seals her lips around it, licking, sucking. Giving you a rather... exhaustive... demonstration of what she intends to do to you later. _Lower._

She eases you both down onto the bed when she feels you leaning more heavily against her, giving up on your shaky knees and pleasant dizziness as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part in a silent gasp when she starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your neck switching between teasing bites along the tender flesh of your throat and short hot licks right behind your ear that are more than enough to force you to hold onto whatever part of her you can reach as your hips buck of their own will against her thigh.

With her words still echoing in your mind and her hands and lips mapping the curves and valleys of your body for the first time, you allow yourself to relax. You allow yourself to enjoy the moment, the touches, the kisses, the perfectly escalating rhythm of warming, burning, scorching desire as the air becomes heavier with your ragged breaths and sticky with the distinctive musky scent of your own arousal.

It feels like taking in the very first sip of air and drowning into the overwhelming sensations at the same time, and Alex must notice it since she pulls back from where she has been leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your neck to gently, softly remind you to breathe.

And so you do.

Willing your lungs to expand with some much needed air as you allow the rest of your body to feel and be cherished like no one has ever cared to do before, barely managing to not come there and then at the first accidental brush of Alex's long fingers across your throbbing clit, realizing, from that first touch that has your breathing all over the place, that you'll have to brace yourself good for this incredibly promising ride.

And you are proven right. Because her meaning of _"a good impression"_ turns out to be the understatement of the whole damn human history.

You don't know how much it passes, time seems such a meaningless concept all of a sudden, you lose track of it just like you lose count of how many times you come, of how many times you are _this_ close to slip out of consciousness by the devastating, almost brutal force of your climaxes, of how many times Alex's name scratches your throat and slips past your lips in a beg, in a plea, in a scream, in a request _for more_ , in an encouragement to _keep going_ and _don't stop_... but most of all, in absolute, heart stopping, breathtaking, soul-wrecking, spine arching blissfulness.

For that undefined amount of time you know nothing else than coming apart under her, on top of her, with the warmth of Alex's mouth surrounding you, with the fullness of Alex's impossibly skilled fingers stretching you and fucking you, softly and slow at first, getting you accustomed to the feeling, before turning fast and deep and exquisitely eye-rolling-in-the-back-of-the-head hard. Almost rough. But always, _always_ considerate.

Her intimate touches have you immediately addicted, from the first slippery swirl of her tongue on your clit, to the last deliciously harsh thrust and perfect curling motion of her fingers deep inside you.

You ache so deliciously at the end, that you know you are going to sport that soreness for a few days; the perfect reminder of all the things that she has made you feel. Things that you have never experienced before. Things that yes, you have encountered and felt...

Only in your dreams.

Literally.

And the only thing that you desire more than keep finding out in how many ways and how many times in a row she can make you come, is explore her own body; a glorious inch at the time, and discover what kind of attention have her squirm with need and moan deep in her chest with delight.

You just want to make her feel as wonderful as she did you. The hell with the half-assed, nonsense insecurities of the whole first time thing.

You just want _Alex._

"You sure?" She asks when you press her back into the mattress with a gaze hot enough to burn and a touch full of purpose, searching your face for any sign of doubt, but there is one of those smirks tugging at the corner of her mouth under that layer of considerate concern. It's thin but undoubtedly sincere, and you know that if you would tell her no she wouldn't question it.

But your answer could only have been one, and it comes through a kiss, a hard one, as your hand traces the curves down that magnificent body; a living sculpture of all that is beauty and woman that you know must be source of envy from anyone who has been so lucky to see it so closely, in all its naked glory.

You thought you might have needed some advice, but focusing on the way she responds to your touches, to the pressure you apply, to the slow pace you set - and then increase in sync with the clear demand for more of her searching hips - is really all you need; the only lead you need to follow. And you almost can't believe how authentic and natural it feels. Taking immeasurable pride when she comes - almost coming yourself all over again at the incredible feeling of her inner walls fluttering and clenching so tightly, so possessively around you at the apex of her pleasure. You make sure to draw every single shudder out of her, make sure that she rides it fully until she comes down from her high and you are left in front of the glorious sight of her sated body and at the feeling that swells inside of you. The one that fills that spot you have refused, hesitated, to slid completely into the place you are equally thrilled and afraid to discover it could truly belong there.

But now... Now you cannot at least consider this... unique experience as an ultimate sign.

And if the mind-blowing sex that you just had and have experienced only in another realm before isn't enough to feed your suspicious and make your heart beat frantically in that combination of trepidation and hope...

The beautiful tattoo on her shoulder makes it skip a painful beat every time your eyes stay open enough to catch a glimpse of it.

You find yourself tracing the outline of the amazingly realistic drawing in silent awe, wrapped in the quiet, lazy afterglow that follows the culmination of your passion as you recover. Memorizing its delicate lines over the smooth, refined canvas that is Alex's perfect alabaster skin, feeling the emotion that surfaces - from your dream-memories of seeing dozens of dozens of them in that specific scenery - getting stuck at your throat, forcing you to swallow hard in order not to choke on its persistent presence.

You must have been tracing it thoughtfully for a while because Alex decides to break the comfortable, cozy silence when you restart caressing it all over again.

"Do you like it?"

You hum softly and nod, but curiosity has the best of you eventually. "Why a rose?"

Even though your gaze doesn't leave the tattoo, you can practically hear the smirk in her voice when Alex answers you with a question of her own.

"What's more beautiful than a woman and a rose?"

"Roses have thorns." You point out with an arched eyebrow looking up at her just in time to see her throwing her head back in a deep laugh. And you know that the tripping that you feel in your chest, is because you must be falling a little harder at that rich, both throaty and contrastingly soft sound. "Women have those too, believe me kid."

And then the hint of her smirk turns into a smile. Authentic. Almost tender. But with the ever-present mischievous glint sparkling her eyes that is purely hers. "You just have to pick them carefully."

"And are you? Careful I mean." It comes out more flirty than you actually intended as you shift closer to her warmth, but you really don't mind when Alex chuckles a little more in response.

"Not really." She admits, then pauses playing with a strand of your hair, delicately tracing the shell of your ear, and when her eyes return to you there is that light again in them, dark, wanting. Hungry. You can practically read the other half of her answer before the words leave her lips in that seductive hushed tone. "But I always go for what I want."

Oh, she does indeed.

In fact, right after that, she leans in and kisses you again with a starved mouth and a touch that becomes purposeful in no time, holding the renewed promise of a never-ending ecstasy that has your body arch with want against hers.

Alex has been good on that first silent promise she made earlier, showing you enthusiastically what you have been missing out by denying you this. And for a moment you wonder how much of that is about being with a woman and how much it is being with _this_ woman. With Alex. Just Alex.

Whatever answer you could have come up with loses of its importance and meaning with each orgasm Alex drags out from your shuddering writhing body, until you are left as an empty shell of something that have never felt more complete before.

 **. . .**

It becomes a normal occurrence over the following couple of weeks or so.

Now that you have gotten a taste you can't stop.

You finally realize what being addicted to something feels like, what being high truly means. Your body can't get enough of that buzzing feeling, of the pleasant soreness that clings onto you afterward.

Alex's many signatures of passion on your flesh don't have a chance to fade that she replaces them in different more sensitive and pleasantly vulnerable spots, harder, sharper, with every intent to leave a perfect mark on your skin until the next time.

You taste her for the first time with you on your knees, moaning around the tangy, salty, sweet essence of her, licking her until she has to push you away to make you stop when it becomes too much.

She fucks you so hard you barely know how to spell your own name, but hers is always on your tongue.

 _Please Alex._

 _More Alex._

 _Deeper Alex._

 _Faster Alex._

 _Fuck me harder Alex._

And she does, she does, _she does._

Sometimes it feels like she is just waiting for you to say it, deliberately slowing down, holding back, teasing you, only so she can hear you beg her like this. It should irritate you beyond compare knowing that she is doing it on purpose, but the reward that you get, whenever you voice your desire out loud, is more than worth the way she torments you oh so sweetly.

You can feel her pour every fiber of her being, with barely any effort, into your sweaty, wrecking, scorchingly passionate sex marathons, until your screams turn into the perfect mix that holds both pleasure and a delicious sting of pain. A wonderful bliss that hurts just so good.

You can barely believe the way she makes you feel during these moments.

It's like she breaks you down into pieces, only to build you back up again, but fuller, somehow stronger, and more complete.

You can only hope that she feels like this as well when it is your head between her legs teasing sweet slow orgasms out of her with your tongue on her clit, or with your fingers stretching her out and curling against that spot on her front wall that makes her come more intensely but faster.

But for how wonderful it all is, there is this feeling swelling from somewhere inside you that what you and Alex are doing, could be much more than something simply lust driven.

And if that isn't enough, the whole probable-soulmate-thing is always there, poking at the edge of your mind, ready to trigger a discussion you don't want to have for so many reasons.

The most obvious one is also the most dreaded. The possibility that you were wrong. And that she might not be... meant for you.

But you can't simply ignore the part of you that has literally just woken up with her aid so you pretend that all is good that whatever you are doing doesn't need a label, that you are just experimenting and having a good, proper fuck for the first time in your life. Because it's easier this way, because you are good at pretending, because your head can play along... Because you can ignore the protest that swells in your chest, that for how fierce, it still doesn't stop you from meeting Alex at every chance, feeling quite delighted actually by the fact that she has evidently enjoyed her first time with you so much that she's more than interested in repeating such performance, doesn't matter when and definitely doesn't matter where.

It has been her place that first time, your place a few times after that, in the bathroom stall of the bar you met on one occasion, and, during one particularly heated night, against the fucking wall of an alley outside a club. Dirty and humid. Utterly amazing.

It really doesn't matter where Alex takes you, although, even if you don't know how to explain it, there is a certain welcoming warmth to her place. The surrounding brings feelings of comfort and... odd familiarity. Deja vu-like, but much more subtle, and it's not related to the still fresh memory of your first time.

You allow yourself to admit what it is when, still half-drugged by the lingering traces of your aftershock, you take in the books and vinyl records piled in order in the bookshelf in her room, and at that point there is no longer a barrier from preventing that question that has been bouncing relentlessly in your head to slip from your lips.

"Can I ask you what do you dream about?"

You know that it comes completely out of nowhere, that Alex must think of it as an awfully odd choice for interrupting your comfortable silence, and that even if there is no weight in it, no demand or pressure, just honest curiosity with not even as much hope behind it as you thought your voice was holding, you would have still expected some reluctance, a visible shift in her demeanor, a falter in her touch that would give away the uncomfortable nature of what you at least consider a very delicate topic.

But Alex doesn't react at all, she just keeps running her fingers up and down your arm without breaking her lazy, gentle rhythm, and you don't know what to think of it. Until she answers.

"Most of the times I don't sleep long enough for a dream to take form actually." She confesses eventually, and you feel this... _something,_ forming somewhere in your chest at that information.

It feels so much like something cold, and hollow.

"Oh."

"But if you are talking about those dreams..." She continues, "They don't come very often, and when they do they are usually... hard to decipher."

You know that not everyone has dreams that are as simple and as straightforward to understand as others, but you do know how lonely, and scary, it can feel when the dreams don't come for weeks. You remember that period too well, and you wonder how Alex can sound and look so... calm, while saying something like this.

"I'm sorry." You tell her sincerely.

She just smiles and shrugs. "Don't be, sometimes I can get a few hints here and there."

"Maybe you should try to get more sleep then." You suggest with a tiny smile of your own.

"Should I?" She asks with that smirk that tells exactly what she is thinking about even before she shifts to lay on top of you once again and you find your legs parting in automatic to make space for her as she continues, leaning in and whispering the words against your neck in between sweet lingering kisses. "There are so many things that I prefer doing than getting some sleep," She teases, her hot breath sends a shiver down your spine, making you squirm with renewed need. "And I'm sure you agree with me Pipes."

She doesn't wait for an answer - if she doesn't count the shuddering needy moan that slips past your lips as one. Which she probably does.

Half a second later her hand is on you again, parting your folds, gathering the fresh gush of wetness that she finds there, and then she is slipping effortlessly inside you, deep till her knuckles in one single smooth thrust.

"Oh God... _Alex._ "

As you grip onto her side and ass digging your blunt nails into the solid muscle there, you think that _you know_ you'll never experience something better or more intense and wonderful than having Alex on top of you, feeling her weight on you, her fingers inside you, filling you, stretching you so deliciously, adding the force of her hips behind each one of her thrusts.

You finally understand all the excitement that people have about sex.

The few rushed encounters you have had in college might have turned up being a complete, utter disappointment.

But sex with Alex... God.

It's alive. Breathing. It's beyond comprehension. Beyond any physical law and logic. It locks the rest of the world away and it makes you live right within that sensation where nothing else exists as she takes you deeper, faster, harder, just like you love feeling her.

Raw and authentic.

She doesn't hold back. She gives you everything she has and more, and you take all she gives you, eagerly, greedily, like only you two and the growing throbbing wet need between your legs matters.

So it shouldn't be much of a surprise that during such moment neither of you hear anything else besides the string of moans and groans and pleas mixed with the wet sounds of her fucking you and of your bodies rubbing against each other.

It shouldn't be a surprise that neither of you hears the bedroom door getting opened or the faltering step on the hardwood floor that follows.

But you surely hear that livid, hissed _"What the fuck is going on here?"_

You pull away from Alex with a start, hands shooting up on instinct to cover yourself, eyes snapping wide open, and as soon as they finally focus, they land on a very furious-looking redhead standing there in the doorway.

A set of keys in her hand, jaw clenched and a gaze flashing red with scorching anger.

It actually happens so fast that you don't even have time to realize what is happening. And then realization comes way too fast, as at Alex's groan of mixed concern and annoyance follows a muttered "fuck" that someone says only when they have been busted.

And not simply by a friend or a roommate you know she doesn't have...

You don't know what hurts most, if the shaky apologetic smile Alex flashes you, or the throb on your cheek after that crazy woman jumps you and punches you before Alex can stop her, but it probably is the feeling of that something cracking open somewhere in your chest when you realize that Alex has lied to you.

* * *

 **Yep... I did it again.**


	4. Chapter 4

Hi everyone!

I'm back with the last chapter ready for you guys :) As I said this story was meant to be a rather short one from the beginning and it still turned out longer then what I initially thought, but I know you don't mind :D

Anyway, I wanted to thank you all for having been so patient and giving me the time to complete this while I'm also writing another story, and I wanted to thank you for being so lovely with all your comments and flattering words. You are way too kind, and _I_ (as one of my most favorite characters says) _am but a humble servant to my loyal readers_ :)

Mh, I wonder if anyone got that reference...

Anyway, back to this fandom and to Vauseman, here's the last chapter for this story, it is a long one and now I'll leave you to it :)

Enjoy

* * *

Alex has a girlfriend.

An _attractive_ girlfriend, that _lives_ with her, and has a pretty mean jab, you also add rubbing your sore cheek. The throbbing there luckily made numb by the cool air of the night and by the swirl of scorching fury and humiliation that is boiling inside of you and threatening to spill from your eyes as angry tears.

You refuse with everything you are to give in to that urge that makes your eyes blurry and tightens your throat into a painful knot as you stride down the sidewalk, ignoring the mix of frowned glances and sneers that other few people walking by send you upon seeing your bare feet on the pavement. Ignoring pretty much anything else that is happening around you actually as the last five minutes keeps playing over and over again in your mind as if to mock you for your naiveness, your stupidity. The coldness and sharpness of it feeling like an ice bucket of "I told you so" coming from your subconscious and been thrown over that glimmer of hope that you have allowed to shine for all this time at the thought of Alex.

A first tear slides down your cheek when you try to blink the blurriness away and you wipe it angrily with the side of your hand just as you come to a stop, not knowing what to do, but knowing that you don't want to go home and stay alone with that mix of humiliation and anger rolling inside you, and for how much the night has turned out so awfully that it practically requires it, you don't think that giving into the sudden need to drink yourself into a stupor might be a good idea.

You end up hailing a cab and giving Polly's address.

Your current state has you into a whole other version of yourself, one you can't even recognize and that doesn't make you aware of many, many things, but when you finally get to Polly's apartment, you should have expected that your friend, upon seeing you standing in her doorway, past midnight, barefoot, with one shoe dangling from your hand, clothes still askew and mascara smudged on your slightly swollen, slowly bruising cheekbone, would have gone into a full worrying mode that almost borders into real panic.

"I'm fine, Polly."

Well, actually, you are far from fine, but you want to reassure her before she can jump to some horrific conclusion about your messy appearance.

"The hell you are!" She practically shouts as she pulls you inside the apartment and shuts the door behind her. "What the fuck happened to you?!"

The idea of coming here seemed better than your other two options when it had popped into your head, but now, with Polly fussing over you, checking for injuries or whatever it is that she's doing, realizing that you're gonna have to spill everything out... doesn't seem like the better option after all.

Above the turmoil of mixed feelings that are still bubbling in your stomach, now you also feel guilty, because you didn't include her about Alex. And now here you are, came to cry on your friend's shoulder about the woman who's been consuming your thoughts for the past weeks and has "accidentally forgot" to tell you about being already involved with someone else.

You can feel the beginning of a headache pulsing at your temples, from exhaustion, from the contrasting storm of emotions that doesn't feel like it's going to diminish anytime soon, from the tears you are struggling to hold at bay.

Polly must see them and starts to get an idea about what all of this could be. She sighs as she rubs your arm and tugs you gently towards the bathroom. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and then you can tell me exactly what got you so upset to bring you here this late."

The quick shower that you take helps a little.

If only the sense of humiliation would flow with the dirt and remaining traces of Alex left on your body down the drain as well, you would certainly feel better. But that feeling is still clinging tightly onto you.

You slip into a pair of sweatpants and a slightly oversized shirt that Polly gives you and then you find yourself curled up on her couch, hair slightly damp, a steamy cup of tea snuggled in one hand, an ice pack pressed against your cheek in the other, and Polly concerned sisterly presence beside you. Waiting patiently.

The silence stretches into minutes as you consider how to explain all this mess, until you realize that there isn't a right or wrong way to do it.

"Remember that someone you suspected I met?" You ask her at last, not even glancing away from your teacup, afraid to see the "I knew it" all over your friend's face.

You just take the silence as a confirmation and invitation to continue. And so you do, after taking in a slow calming breath and setting the ice pack on the coffee table.

"Her name is Alex. And... I've been seeing her for a while."

This time you dare a tentative glance at Polly, surprised to find such an unexpectedly open and sympathetic expression on her face as she calmly asks you, "Tell me what happened."

You tell her everything. Starting from the beginning. How you met, who Alex is, what she does... And it is only now, as you talk about her, that you realize that in reality, you don't even know who Alex actually is.

She kept an entire part of her life hidden from you. She lied to you, and you are wondering about how many things exactly.

If possible, you feel even more stupid and naive.

Polly doesn't even look entirely surprised actually, although and you can read the million of curious questions that pop in her head all over her face as you reveal detail after detail, even the most... intimate ones. But she lets you speak without interrupting, until you come to tonight's events and discovery.

"Jesus, and what did she do before you left?" She asks then leaning towards you as if waiting for the suspenseful conclusion of a story she already knows the ending.

You snort bitterly at the fresh memory.

"She followed me down the hallway of her apartment building saying that she was sorry and that she wanted to explain."

Polly rolls her eyes. "How original."

Then it is silence again, both absorbed by the thoughts this conversation has brought up, until Polly sighs and asks you, softly, as if afraid to disturb the balanced quietness, "What do you want to do Pipes?"

You can hear the "it's obvious you are developing feelings for her" that weights in that question. You just decide to ignore it as she continues. "Do you think she might really be... I mean, from what you told me, about her and your dreams, she could, right?"

You shrug, set the empty teacup on the coffee table and force your features into a mask of indifference that feels uncomfortably tight. But you need it.

"It doesn't matter." You say at last, coldly, defeated, as you get up, deciding that you are _done_ dealing with your exhausting feelings about Alex fucking Vause for the night.

"Maybe she really is my soulmate. It doesn't mean we have to be together."

The words come out so easily from your mouth and yet the thought and the pain it brings with them, is unbearable.

You wonder if it is your heart that thing that you feel crack in your chest at the possibility.

 **. . .**

Alex looks for you during the following days. She calls you, leaves voicemails, sends texts asking you to _call her back_ , to _let her explain_ , to _meet her to talk._

You ignore them all.

Even if the temptation to answer is almost overwhelming and threatening to break your resolve.

You resist. Feeling both proud and on the verge of losing it, like an addict turning down a dose while itching with the need to take it, longing to feel its effect flowing in the bloodstream.

But you resist.

Until one afternoon you can't ignore the knocking at your front door.

On your defense, the thought that it might be Alex doesn't even cross your mind actually. These days you don't think about anything except how miserable you feel, but then you swing the door open and... There she is.

The reason for your misery. In the flesh.

"Alex..."

It leaves your lips barely above a surprised whisper.

And you hate how the sudden sight of her and of her striking beauty leaves you breathless, and how the little tentative smile that she flashes you makes your heart flutter and has your knees buckle.

"Hey," She says, sounding surprisingly self-conscious for a brief moment before she regains her trademark confidence back. "Just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay and just very busy at ignoring me."

You hate even more how long it takes you to recover from the surprise visit, from her presence. But you force yourself to, leaning against the doorframe and fixing her with a hard stare. "You make it kind of difficult for me to ignore you properly if you swing by my place unannounced."

You force yourself not to think about the last time she has been here, at your place, about how you have ended up on your couch, and kitchen countertop, and bed, and shower, and-

"Yeah well I tried to call, but that obviously didn't work out, and I was worried."

Alex snaps you out from those bittersweet memories and your posture softens the tiniest bit at the genuine concern you can hear in her voice at that admission.

 _Oh._

Another awkward long moment passes before she looks down as if suddenly reminding something, and it is only when she holds up what looks to be a small juta sack that you notice the object as well for the first time.

"Here," She says as she holds it up to you.

You eye it suspiciously before taking it, surprised by how little it weighs, and once you untie the ribbon and look inside you actually have to suppress a laugh, an honest laugh, and tell yourself that you are not melting a little on the inside.

She has brought you a bag full of rose petals.

"Bouquets are too clichè," She explains with a half shrug, "And besides, you have pointed out that roses have thorns, so..."

Her voice trails off and for how much a part of you wants to show less antagonism after that dorky gesture, you are not going to make it so easy for her.

"So maybe you should have brought me the stems instead," You step in sourly, "As a reminder that something so _beautiful_ can hurt so _badly._ "

You accept the gift anyway and place it behind you on the cabinet at the entrance.

She sighs, running a hand through her long dark hair and you try not to think about how beautiful it looks with the bright afternoon sun rays bringing up that hidden shade of dark auburn, or remind how impossibly soft it felt when you have run your fingers through it to bring her closer for a kiss during the heat of passion.

"Look Piper, I'm sorry okay? What do you want me to say? That I'm a horndog? Fine."

Oh, she definitely is, but you decide to ignore that part and instead square your shoulders, summoning more confidence than you don't actually posses as you fix her with a steely gaze.

"No, I want you to tell me why you didn't say anything about having a girlfriend. You know, the one with whom you share your apartment and has caught you in bed three knuckles deep into another woman."

It's hard not to keep the sarcasm from dripping at every word, but you are still so damn angry. And relieving that moment of that night surely doesn't help.

Alex on her part doesn't comment on it, and she looks infuriatingly calm actually.

"I know how it looks like," She explains instead, and there is something in her voice, a note that numbs some of your hostility as she continues. "But there are periods during which I travel and work a lot - it's great yeah, but also exhausting, and when I finally return back home here in the city... well, it's good to know you are not coming back to just an empty apartment."

The meaning of what she is trying to tell you hits you so hard and so unexpectedly that it temporarily throws you off balance.

Is she...?

Is she actually saying what you think she is? That she feels lonely?

For a long moment you are torn between snorting and restart with the whole sarcasm thing all over again. But she looks so vulnerably, uncomfortably open at the revelation that you can't help but think that she might be really honest about this.

You shake your head and find your composure once again, telling yourself that _It doesn't matter._

"So what? I was just a quick easy fuck while she was away and couldn't warm your bed?"

"God, no!" She sounds and looks horrified, offended even at the thought, but you continue as if you didn't hear her.

"Then beside being a cheater, you have been dishonest to both me and her, not to mention to whoever you hook up with whenever you are away _working._ "

"Jesus Piper, there is no one else!" She jumps in exasperated, "And Sylvia, yeah she lives at my place or occasionally sleeps there or whatever but, it's not _like that,_ between us."

It isn't lost the way she makes a face thinking about the redhead, or maybe it is your previous use of the term _girlfriend_ that triggers that little grimace.

"It certainly looks like you are _like that_ for her." You point out coldly, absently rubbing your cheek where that crazy woman hit you.

"Well I don't feel the same!" She exclaims. Not angrily but loud enough to make her point and startle you with the sincerity in that admission.

A long pause fills the air and then she sighs calmly.

"Look... I like you Piper." She admits at last and the confirmation makes you feel fuzzier than you want to feel right now. "I really, _really_ do. A lot, in case you had doubts about that."

You take a moment to absorb that, fully, half nodding, half shaking your head, because, "It still doesn't change anything. You _lied_ to me, Alex."

She sighs again. Her broad shoulders slumping a bit with the soft exhale.

"I know." She whispers, with a bite of guilt and defeat laced into the admission. "And I'm sorry. My only excuse is..." Her voice trails off as she takes a small step forward and for a moment it looks like she might be reaching to take your hand before she lets hers drop at her side in a lose fist in afterthought as she concludes. "Is that I couldn't help myself around you."

The look into those green eyes is devastating and you can see that her apology and mutual hurt at having fucked up is sincere. And in that moment you are impossibly tempted to just pull her towards you and kiss her like you long to, but you know you'll regret it as soon as you'll be alone with yourself later.

So you divert your gaze instead and take a small step back to put a much-needed distance from the compelling heat of her proximity. Telling yourself that you can resist the gravitational pull towards her orbit.

"I have a few things to do, so if you don't mind." You know that it sounds like the lamest excuse ever, and that Alex sees right through it, but you don't have anything smoother to offer to slip out from this situation. And you _really_ need to slip out from this situation before you do something really stupid. Like forgive her and pull her inside.

She just drawls a skeptic "right" and you don't know if you are pleased or disappointed that she is indulging you.

Definitely disappointed you think when you see her taking a step back, ready to leave.

"Before I go," She says then sounding particularly hesitant, "There are two tickets in that bag I gave you, for a concert of one of the bands I work with. It's for the next week, in a club in the city. You can go with whoever you want."

Well, that's... unexpected.

And also undeniably sweet.

You are so taken aback that for a few moments you are actually at a loss for words, until you manage to stutter your thanks.

"You didn't have to, Alex."

She shrugs. "It's no big deal, and I wanted to."

Then she turns to leave only to turn back to you once again as if suddenly remembering something else.

"Oh, and another thing," She adds, looking at you with an enigmatic lopsided smile that has you so strangely captivated. "Can I at least ask you to read something else for a change? A novel perhaps?"

You frown, utterly puzzled by that very odd request.

"What do you mean?"

And then her smile turns into one of those full, gorgeous smirks of hers that has your heart leaping with a strange sense of anticipation.

"I mean that it's like intercepting both the discovery and history channel whenever I sleep you nerd."

If it wasn't for the doorframe where you are leaned against, you think you would stumble and fall when the meaning held in her words sinks into you, slowly, and then all at once.

You blink and part your lips a few times, trying to get your thoughts in order and trying to get your voice to work, say something, _anything._

But by the time you recover, Alex is already gone, one last "See you around Pipes" echoing distantly from somewhere in the back of your mind accompanied by a flash of that smirk.

When, still speechless, you get back inside and close the door and lean against it, willing your wildly pounding heart to remain inside your chest and slow down to a normal rate as your gaze fall on the near cabinet where her gift sits right next to a pile of numbers of national geographic magazines and a worn copy of Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan, you think that if there was a part of you that was still waiting, _hoping,_ for some sort of confirmation, then here it is.

Alex just gave it to you.

 **. . .**

You are conflicted.

Impossibly so.

You have never been more conflicted about something in your life as much as you are in this matter.

Alex hasn't called or even texted you ever since that day and you haven't looked for her either. Not because you don't want to. Because God... That's always been a temptation hard to resist.

You just don't know what you should do, and Polly with her straightforwardness is less than helpful.

After what you told her about Alex, she despises the woman for what she has done to you without having even met her. And yet, she still prompts you to talk to her properly. Because she can clearly see how much she means to you. And because _she is your fucking soulmate you dumbass,_ as she says after you have updated her about the latest developments, or admission, or whatever that last thing Alex told you the other day was.

Polly has even agreed to go to the concert with your whining ass.

But about the rest...

You still have no idea what to do.

Because even if the anger towards Alex has diminished considerably over the past week, there is a part of you that hasn't completely forgiven her and that is still hurting.

It is perfectly appropriate, you think, when you find the answer to your endless struggle in the same way all of this started.

In a dream.

It is early in the afternoon of the concert's day actually. You don't even mean to fall asleep, but the idea of a nap before getting ready for the evening isn't so bad after all. Eventually, you succumb to the heaviness of your eyelids and to the call of sleep there on your couch, where your mind drags you into one of its creations within minutes.

Your dreams have always been pretty vivid.

Very realistic. Filled with details.

Smells, sounds, visual and touch stimulus have always felt unbelievably real.

If it wasn't for the now easily recognizable surroundings you would have trouble telling the differences between them and reality.

But today, the surrounding that greets you is a pale, bare, desolate version of the one you are used to see from time to time.

There is no music.

No band on the stage.

No crowd.

Nothing.

The space is filled with complete emptiness.

And with the sense of desolation that seeps into your bones. Chilling you from the inside. Tightening your chest into a choking grasp. Making you wrap your arms around yourself in a silly attempt to bring warmth and reassurance at the painful thought that you have been left alone.

Your gaze then lands on what you know once was a bright red path of soft, delicate rose petals.

The roses are still there, but now they look withered, dry, dead.

You find yourself following it anyway, even knowing that it can't lead to something better than the rest, and in fact you are proven right when you step into a room that is covered in dust, with old papers lying around, a broken compass with no needle resting on top of unreadable maps. There is nothing of the brightness you remember so vividly in there. Nothing of the warmth you were used to feel upon coming here.

And you have never felt more lonely in your life.

You search for that presence, for that faceless someone who has lead you here more times that you can count, but there is no one. Just coldness and the sense of abandon clinging onto you so desperately.

You can feel your eyes sting and your throat tightening with those suppressed bitter tears, until you can no longer hold them back.

You wake up with your own strangled sob.

With the wetness of your own tears running down your cheeks.

The first coherent thought surfacing from the haze of the dream and forming in your mind is about Alex.

Alex...

Alex who has seduced you and lead you on.

Alex who really likes you and came to apologize, and brought you flowers - kind of - and her beautiful mischievous smile.

Alex your fucking _soulmate._ Who you have pushed away out of the heartache she has caused with her lies.

With that last thought you make your decision. Jumping off the couch, hurriedly changing into a pair of faded jeans and a loose button up, grabbing your things before heading out with the only thought and almost desperate need to go find her.

If Alex is as dedicated to her job as you think she is from the enthusiasm she has let transpire with you, then you know she must be there at the club where the concert takes place tonight, making sure that everything is ready and works properly.

You cross your fingers as you hail a cab, texting Polly that you'll meet her there at the club.

It's still early when you get there, the concert won't start for another few hours but the place is already open for the staff as you were hoping.

You sneak in from the back and when you ask for Alex with your heart hammering hard against your ribcage, you can't even hold back your relief when one of the guys setting up the sound system points at an office on the back and you all but jog towards it.

You round the corner and...

The door is open.

And Alex is inside.

Half bent beside a desk filled with papers, raising her head from whatever she was reading on her laptop when she hears steps approaching and meeting your gaze just as you take the first step in the room.

The surprise registers on her face immediately, with a slight frown and parted lips, and the sight of her has your steps falter for a moment.

"Piper... What are you-"

You don't let her finish.

You cross the room in two strides and cup her face to pull her into a kiss, and the first touch of those soft lips against yours is enough to melt away the awful remnants of loneliness that were still clinging onto you from that dream.

If Alex is taken aback by the kiss she doesn't show it one bit. She just wraps her arms around you and pulls you closer.

You almost sob with relief in her mouth in the safeness and affection that you feel her pouring into that kiss and feel into that warm, reassuring embrace.

When you part it is only because the need for air makes it impossible to continue, but the connection isn't completely severed, Alex is still there. Holding you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and looking at you with soft concerned eyes when your gaze meets hers.

"You okay kid?" She asks barely above a whisper as if afraid to startle you or break the spell that brought you in her arms.

She could never, because she is the one who has enchanted you from the beginning.

You just nod, and smile at her, fully, relieved, infinitely grateful. "Yes... Now I am."

She smiles too, with her own visible relief.

"Not that I'm complaining, but... Can I ask you what made you change your mind?"

You shrug hesitantly, wondering how much longer you could have resisted this woman.

"I didn't change my mind." You admit, "I knew I would have ended up forgiving you. _Eventually._ A dream just made me do it faster."

The grin she flashes you is slow, and crooked, and beautiful. It says "I'm glad it did" while the tender light in her stunning emerald eyes says "I missed you". She leans in and you eagerly meet her halfway before suddenly pulling back before your lips can touch.

"Wait. What about your girlfriend?"

Alex shakes her head and pulls you just a bit closer. "She is not my girlfriend anymore. I told her the truth," At your frown she clarifies, "That I have found my soulmate. It's not like she could have said anything to that. She was just angry that I didn't tell her sooner and that I've disrespected her like that."

You spare her the "took you long enough to realize it" speech and instead, unable to resist your curiosity, you ask her, "So you have always known it was me, your soulmate?"

She shakes her head in negative again, but there is the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "No, I couldn't have put all the pieces together that first time I saw you." Then she pauses and that smile widens a little more. "But there was this... _pull_ towards you, from the beginning. I'm not sure I can explain it."

She doesn't need to, and your heart flutters wildly knowing that she has felt that _something_ too at your first encounter.

"What about you and your dreams?" She asks then just as curiously.

And it's only now that it occurs to you that you have asked about hers but that you haven't told her about yours.

You are happy to share however, and when you conclude you kind of already expected that her first - kind of bewildered - question would have been "Are you telling me that I've actually been fucking you even before we met? _In your dreams?_ "

You groan.

"For how long?" She asks with an overly pleased grin.

A blush spreads all over your face, reaching the tip of your ears as you mumble a response.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" She asks teasingly. And you groan again, in deep embarrassment as you repeat a little louder. "A couple of years."

She laughs, deep in her chest and even if she is kind of laughing at you, you still revel at the thought that you are going to hear that beautiful sound that makes you fall for her a little harder every time you hear it, for the rest of your life.

"So what now?" You ask her once her humor has reduced into just a playful smirk.

"Wanna have the whole soulmate-celebration thing?" She asks with a hint of suspicion in her arched brow.

"Ugh, God no, that's not really my thing." For a fleeting moment you think you might have been too hasty with your opinion, because maybe Alex wants that, but the grin that spreads across her face at your admission tells you the opposite.

"Then I think we might really be made for each other, Pipes." She says kind of proudly.

You grin. _Made for each other..._ Well, the universe says so apparently, you think.

"About your question though," She continues, pulling you out from your dreamy thoughts. "I might have an idea actually."

"Do you now?" It comes out more flirty than you wanted it to, but Alex certainly doesn't mind.

She smirks and hums. "I have to follow the band down to Florida next week for a couple of concerts I have arranged for them there. What would you say about joining me?"

You try to contain your grin of excitement. "Florida, uh?"

"Yep." She confirms with a slow nod. "Beach, sand, sun, sea and all of that."

If that isn't tempting you don't know what it is.

"And... your gang of musicians wouldn't mind my presence?" You ask a bit hesitantly.

"Absolutely no." Alex reassures you with a smile. "I think Nicky - the drummer - might adore you already actually."

You straighten up a bit in surprise at this. "How come?"

"Well," Alex drawls cryptically, "She also happens to be my best friend..."

"So she knows about me?"

She scoffs. "She knows what color underwear I'm wearing, of course she knows about _you._ "

You eye her suspiciously at that particular choice of comparison, suppressing your amusement until she reassures you with an almost horrified "Oh God no, it's not like that between me and her either!"

And at that you can't really hold back your laughter any longer.

"Just wanted to be sure," You defend in between chuckles when Alex glares playfully at you, "But good to know. I don't want any more competition." You tell her wrapping your arms around her neck.

This triggers a huge smirk from her.

"That's unexpectedly possessive of you Pipes. And also kinda hot if I'm being completely honest."

You have the decency to blush guiltily at the accusation, which isn't completely true but you are unable to fully deny it.

"Should I take this as a yes to my invitation?"

You pretend to think about it for a minute.

Getting away from everything, possibly visiting the country state by state a little at the time with your soulmate by your side?

There is only one answer to that.

But first, you kiss her enthusiastically.

And when you pull back she is already grinning, even before you whisper your "yes" against her lips.

You have always thought that once you would have found your soulmate - if you would have found them - then everything was settled, the magic and brightness of all of it would maybe start to fade, meaning that the run had ended and thrill would have lost its sparkle eventually.

Now however, you don't think you have ever been more wrong in believing such thing.

Because now that you have met your soulmate, now that you have found Alex Vause, you know that this is where the wonderful adventure truly begins. And you can't wait to jump right into it...

With the woman of your dreams.

* * *

 **I'm not much into the whole soulmate thing, to be honest, but when this idea came to me I just couldn't resist :) Also I decided to take a different route with them making up after Piper found out that Alex had a girlfriend, because the whole Alex's "it's complicated" excuse was kinda bullshit and has never convinced me much, so I came up with this alternative. Anyway, thanks for reading everyone :)**


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